


Discipline or On the Ecstasies of the Whip

by allofuswithwings



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Black Holes and Revelations Era, M/M, Mild S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: Dom broke the kiss and stared into Matt’s eyes.“Hold out your hands.”
Relationships: Matt Bellamy/Dom Howard
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Discipline or On the Ecstasies of the Whip

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal/Dreamwidth. Originally published April 2009.
> 
> Probably not nearly as exciting as the title suggests. One-off I wrote this afternoon at work because I was bored out of my mind.

It was the same every time he was invited to Dom’s for this purpose; he got the driver to drop him off down the block outside that swanky bar, pretending he was out for a night on the piss. Not that it should be a strange occurrence to go around his best mate’s place, this man he’s known for the last 20 years, and spent nearly every waking moment with for the past 10. Yet, within this particular context and with this intent, it _was_ strange.

And it was best not to leave any trail that might arouse suspicion. A driver might innocently mention these visits to a member of management, such as Tom, and questions might then arise. Especially if Gaia or Kelly got wind of it. No, it was just easier to let people assume that perhaps he was an alcoholic. That was an acceptable vice.

Shielding with cupped hands, he lit a cigarette, sucking in a few quick drags before flicking ash off the end as he set off down the street. He pulled up his collar in a futile attempt to protect from the biting wind, and kept his eyes on the cracked pavement below his feet. Easier not to make eye contact and run the risk of being recognised. It did happen on occasion, though in this part of London it didn’t tend to be an entirely big deal. Many celebrities frequented these streets, and he was fortunate enough to be fairly low down on the excitement register. He liked it that way.

He knew he could take a leisurely pace; Dom never set exact times, and often the later, the better, but tonight the chill hurried him along. Brightly lit curry and kebab houses smelled appealing as he made his way past, but he’d already eaten and didn’t want a full stomach when he got to Dom’s. He considered picking something up on the way back; he often found himself hungry afterward.

Running a hand through his brown locks, he was reminded how long his hair was getting now; it needed a cut. He’d let it grow out a little over these last few months of sporadic gigs, but if they were to head back to the studio soon, he felt he needed a change.

Rounding the final corner on his journey, he once again came across the bloke selling Big Issue. He was here nearly every night, and kept this spot to accost drunken revellers on their way home. He smelled of piss and cigarettes, though seemed to make good money from those merry enough to unload their spare change on him in exchange for the magazine.

Fishing into his own pocket, Matt pulled out a crumpled note and handed it to the man, declining the change. Ghosting a smile and murmuring a thanks, he thought about how the proceeds would most likely go towards more alcohol and fags. Though most people would disapprove, Matt didn’t care. Motivations were always about selfish needs in one form or another. His own expensive jeans, designer Italian shoes and well-groomed facial hair didn’t mean he was any different underneath, when it came down to it. If anything, his desires were more complex and incomprehensible than the simple craving for tobacco or spirits.

Flicking a glance left and right, Matt quickly crossed the street to the well-lit, well-fortified apartment complex that was his destination. Approaching the front entry, he fiddled in his pocket to place his phone on silent. Then, tracing his fingers quickly down the directory, he pushed the buzzer for 314, a button now so ingrained into his tactile memory.

“It’s me.”

Even if Dom had somehow forgotten this most familiar of voices, Matt knew he could see him on the security monitor. And besides, who the fuck else would be turning up to see him at quarter to midnight on a weekday?

Absently scratching the back of his neck, he glanced up at the camera before hearing the door mechanism shift and unlock. Pushing hard on the reinforced glass, he slipped inside and let the door clunk closed behind him, whirring as it locked again automatically.

This was the part Matt hated the most; the walk from the foyer to the lifts and down the halls to Dom’s apartment was sometimes like running a gauntlet. With every step he feared he may come across someone else from the building, and worse still, one of Dom’s neighbours. On a couple of occasions already he’d had to spin some bullshit about why he was visiting so late; working on ‘Musician Time’ usually placated them, but he still felt awkward and paranoid.

But tonight he was in luck, because the place was as silent as the grave. The sound-proofed walls helped with that. And would no doubt help him later that night, as they’d done in the past.

He knocked softly as he arrived at Dom’s door, which was answered swiftly. Dom greeted him with a wide grin, as always, and stepped aside to let him pass. The door clicked shut behind him, and Matt felt a hand trace a lingering path from his neck to the base of his spine as he passed. It was enough to made him shiver, and remind him why he was here; his own desires.

Matt set his keys, phone and wallet down on the table, as he usually did, and peeled off his jacket. They made small talk as Dom poured them both drinks, but all the while he could feel Dom’s eyes upon his form. He didn’t blame him for his lack of subtlety; these were the only times they could both truly let their guards down without fear of reprisal. Matt had opted for tea, as he liked his mind and memory clear on these nights; he didn’t need courage and he didn’t need to forget.

As he sipped his tea, he watched Dom tidy away a few things and then disappear into the bedroom. He returned a few moments later with several lengths of black, satiny fabric in his hand, fingers twitching. Matt’s stomach lurched and a heat washed over his skin at the sight. Dom’s inflamed eyes met his own, and he approached Matt, removing the tea mug from his hands and setting it down on the coffee table. Clearly, he was impatient tonight. Matt didn’t mind.

Dom’s kisses were hungry and consuming, and Matt met them with equal fervour. He’d always enjoyed kissing Dom; there was something familiar but intriguing about it, compared to his fiancée and other women. He’d never been able to define it, nor any of this to be honest, but in the end that didn’t really matter. It was a desire that needed fulfilling, that was all he knew.

Dom broke the kiss and stared into Matt’s eyes.

“Hold out your hands.”

Matt obliged, swallowing as he felt Dom wrap the warm, strong fabric around his wrists. Subsequent loops grew tighter until they were bound firmly together and then knotted, leaving a length free to dangle between his hands. Matt felt his breathing quicken, pulse starting to race under the smooth black cloth. So too, in Dom’s eyes and the slight flush of his cheeks, he could see excitement, anticipation. The rush that was one of the driving forces of these late night visits, for both of them.

Dom lifted another strip of fabric, this time to Matt’s face.

“Open your mouth.”

Matt ran his tongue across his lips before opening his mouth, breaths warm and fast. Dom slipped the length between Matt’s teeth, eyes tracking over his face as he tied it tight at the back of his head. His fingers smoothed the unruly locks there for a few moments, before kissing a path along the gag, across Matt’s cheek. When their lips met again, Matt was able to respond only in a restricted manner, making his blood pound hard in his veins.

“Follow me.”

Matt didn’t really have a choice as Dom took the loose end from between his wrists to lead him toward the bedroom. When they crossed the threshold, Dom stepped to one side and ushered Matt ahead of him toward the bed. Matt felt Dom’s hand skate across his arse and heard him murmur, though wasn’t sure if there were actually any words to it. This was followed by a firmer tap of something distinctly _not_ Dom’s hand, and then a sharper, hard smack of the same.

Matt yelped from under his gag, and turned his head to see Dom brandishing a short cat o’ nine tails. He groaned, inhaling heavily through his nose and feeling the gag moisten with his saliva.

Dom grinned, clearly aware of the effect this item had on Matt. He threw it down on the bed in front of them and then took position standing behind Matt. Lifting the silken fabric still in his other hand, he spread the length between both hands in front of Matt’s face, his warm breath tickling Matt’s ear.

“No peeking.”

Matt closed his eyes, feeling himself twitch in his jeans, as Dom pressed the warm material against his skin, tying it at the back of his head and being careful not to cover his ears. Obviously he still wanted Matt to be able to hear. Dom’s hand then came to rest on the back of his neck, pushing him forward slightly. He heard a shift and then felt the familiar press of the whip against his arse again.

Dom bent him forward so his bound hands and forehead supported him as he leant over the bed, his fingers then creeping around to the front of his jeans. He unbuckled Matt’s belt and opened his fly, sliding his trousers down over his narrow hips. They dropped to his knees, along with his underwear, and Matt felt his head rush with blood as he was exposed to the open air. Dom slid the whip slowly across his cheeks, and bent forward to bring his lips to Matt’s ear again.

“Scream for me.”

And as Dom brought the whip smacking across his bare arse, the first jolts of pain and pleasure rocketing through him, Matt felt his mind shrink to pinprick focus. He needed no sight, no voice, no free will; just Dom’s breaths hot and heavy in his ear, and firm leather slapping across his aching bare skin.

This was his desire, his ecstasy. Perhaps it wasn’t so complex after all.


End file.
